


A Visceral Sahara

by LiketheFox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Mild Gore, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 23:17:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiketheFox/pseuds/LiketheFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I saw it all in slow motion.<br/>Him running towards her, teeth bared, claws out. I saw her scream. She did that a lot.<br/>I saw myself standing there, watching helplessly, frozen by the scene before me.</p>
<p> I saw him slash her throat out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Visceral Sahara

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by the song Spanish Sahara by Foals. If you wanna listen to the song while you read it makes it better.  
> P.S I'm sorry don't hate me.

 

 

_**A Visceral Sahara** _

 

I kept walking. I just kept walking into a haze. I thought about her. All I thought about was her. I walked till I found myself sitting on a dead beach, the miniscule waves hitting the bottom of my trousers, the tiny grains invading my clothes and my skin. I didn't care.

I saw it again in my mind.

I saw her perfect strawberry strands strangling her throat as she layed in the dirty sand. I saw the blood sticking to her pure pale skin, and her limbs stuck out like a broken rag doll. I saw the single flower of wolfsbane in her perfect, still hand. 

I saw her when she smiled, when she screamed, when she ran. I saw everything she everything she did. How she would twist her hair in between her slender fingers and lean one leg, throwing her hip out. I saw the curve of her body, from calf to thigh to hip to waist to breast to the hair falling down her sloping back. The curve of her red lips and the slow rise and fall in her chest and the way she would play with her bracelet. I saw her putting on lipstick and laughing at me and telling me all these amazing facts.

I saw her emerald forest eyes seeing me.

I mean really seeing me, not just looking, but seeing me.

She was so smart. 

_Was_ so smart.

I saw it all in slow motion.

Him running towards her, teeth bared, claws out. I saw her scream. She did that a lot.

I saw myself standing there, watching helplessly, frozen by the scene before me.

 

I saw him slash her throat out.

 

I saw myself. I was running at him, knowing I would probably die. As he jumped I lifted my knife and stabbed him.

I felt the dense flesh twist and turn under the blade, the viscera pouring out of his body. I felt the thick pulsing blood staining my hands. They were never pure anyway, not like hers.

 

I saw her dying. There was a lot of blood spilling from her throat, yet she kept gasping for air. I held her in my arms and felt all the warmth and love leave her body like the empty waves leaving the empty shore. For first time she was truly cold.

I kissed her on her forehead and told her I loved her. It didn’t save her. It doesn’t save anyone.

I let her go limp in my arms.

 

Now I’m sitting in wet sahara seeing her die over and over and over, reliving the blood and carnage.  How? How do I forget the horror here? How do I move on? Will I become a ghost in the back of someone’s head? Just a thought, just a fury burning deep. It’s all over. It’s fate, a slow cataclysm, scratching and scraping at my mind.

 

Its another person on the list, another grave to visit.

Mom

Erica

Boyd

Cora

My dad

and now Lydia.

Maybe its my fate to bury people. To have no-one attend my funeral because they all got murdered before me.

Every year we thought it’d be better. We walked into school full of optimism and certainty. We’d be better than last year. No more tragedies no more deaths, no more pain.

We left high school scarred, burnt, and barren hills of people. The zephyr of death blew  where ever we went, like it was there lurking, waiting for us to stroll by.

Everything about death enveloped my life. The darkness, the extinction, the ending, the loss, the ruin and the destruction. Death normally left a mark; it left a tortured laceration on me. I was still sitting on the arid strand of sand, the ashen sky looming overhead. No-one was there. I was abandoned with my poisonous thoughts. I watched the sea coiling and spilling over itself threatening to swallow me.

I wish the waves would rise and drag me down. I wish I could feel the peace when you drown. I used be scared of drowning, but now its all I want to feel. To feel completely weightless and at peace with everything, to be surrounded by an true endless blue, to be something so small.

To silence the choir of furies in my head.

 I stood up, facing my ending. I attached some heavy rocks to my legs, in my pockets, anywhere I had space. I stared down the Locker and walked in. I keep walking till I  needed to swim. I turned and saw my footprints wash away in the sand.

 Then I kept swimming. I swam so I could see them, I kicked and pushed even with the rocks weighing me down. I swam till I couldn't see the shore.

I was tired. I was so very tired.

I was tired of death controlling my life. I was tired of funerals and the colour black and a lost cause and holding cold corpses after failing to save them. I could see them now and say sorry for failing them.  I wanted to see them so badly. So I stopped and let the water embrace me as I sunk deeper and deeper into the dark.

 

After, when I couldn't struggle anymore, I let the water in.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Leave a comment it means a lot.


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